Posterity, thinned by the crime of its ancestors, shall hear of those battles.

As riches grow, care follows, and a thirst For more and more.

Joyful let the soul be in the present, let it disdain to trouble about what is beyond and temper bitterness with a laugh. Nothing is blessed forever.

Even the worthy Homer sometimes nods.

If things look badly to-day they may look better tomorrow.

Come boy, and pour for me a cup Of old Falernian. Fill it up With wine, strong, sparkling, bright, and clear; Our host decrees no water here. Let dullards drink the Nymph's pale brew, The sluggish thin their blood with dew. For such pale stuff we have no use; For us the purple grape's rich juice. Begone, ye chilling water sprite; Here burning Bacchus rules tonight! Catullus, Selections From Catullus No poems can live long or please that are written by water-drinkers.

Think to yourself that every day is your last; the hour to which you do not look forward will come as a welcome surprise.